A Stranger To Myself
by Pomtree97
Summary: AU."If I don't know myself, how can anyone else ever know me?" Beca Mitchell has always felt alone, like an outcast. But when a girl comes into her life and reveals things about Beca she never would have known otherwise, can Beca learn to accept her differences she's so used to hating? Potentially triggering in later chapters. Rated T for language
1. What if?

I always wondered what my life might be like if I was normal, if I was like everyone else. Because throughout all of my years on this Earth I've always felt out of place, different and unwanted. I've always tried so hard to hide my abnormalities but deep down I knew that they weren't going to go away. I was never truly going to be average like I so wanted.

People could tell, too. The other girls at school apparently had a sixth sense because they discovered just what I was insecure about at first glance, and have tormented me profusely for years and years. I feel alone. Always. In reality, sure, I may have one or two "friends", but they don't like me for me. They like me for the person that I _try _to be, for the person I feel like I _have _to be. They're not real.

I feel like I don't even know myself. And if I don't know myself, how can anyone else ever know me?

But then Chloe showed up. And she changed everything for me. She was the first person that knew me.


	2. Street Oddities

My dad wasn't pleased with me. He didn't think that anything I did was right, making me feel as if I simply wouldn't ever be able to please him. That was no booster to my self-confidence.

The street that I lived on was also boring. Everyone in every house had the same family layout, not including mine. There was a mother, a father, and an only child. Now, in mine, my mother left my father when I was in middle school - it was the talk of the neighborhood for weeks on end - and my father was struggling to keep a job, then I was the girl that nobody could properly describe, including herself.

My neighbor next door moved away. It was abrupt. Either that or I hadn't noticed the "for sale" sign in their yard. They moved out and new people moved in. These new people were life-changing to me. I never would have expected it.

Instead of the typical idealistic family of three, in moved a lively, tightly-knit family of more than six. Their presence was disturbing everyone else on the street simply because of how much they were used to general quietness. I, however, didn't mind the slightly amplified volume every now and then. In fact, my room was on the side of the house closest to theirs, and I occasionally left my window open to listen to them talking loudly to one another or laughing heartily at something I didn't experience alongside them.

I didn't meet any of them until I walked to the bus stop one day.

And Chloe showed up.


	3. Optimism vs Pessimism

I'll never forget the way she looked when she first walked down the street. I remember glancing at her and thinking that she must just be passing by, not even dreaming that someone like _her _would talk to me. But at a second glance, I noticed her backpack. And the books that she hugged to her chest resembled the ones I had for my classes.

I leaned against the pole of the stop sign, my gaze flitting to her frequently. Normally I was a little aggravated by the fact no other kids on this street took the same bus as I did. They were all going to a private school. But now, as this girl walked towards me, I couldn't have felt more privileged to be alone with her.

"Hi," She said to me, gaining all of my attention immediately, "I just moved in here with my family. I'm Chloe," She smiled at me and her teeth were so white I thought they might blind me if the light hit them the right way.

I felt a familiar feeling creeping up on me. The need to gain her approval, no matter what the cost. The problem was that I didn't know her enough yet. I didn't know what I would have to _do _to _get _her approval. In situations like this I was the most insecure. Because I couldn't resort to my usual behaviors. I had to try to just be "myself", whoever that was.

"I'm Beca..." I was truly at a loss for words for more than one reason. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my entire life, which was enough to make anyone nervous, and I also knew nothing about her.

"Pretty name. I'm guessing we go to the same school then?" She asked me. She sounded so casual. _Naturally _casual. I envied that. I envied her.

"Yeah. Barden?" I wasn't sure why I asked that. I was simply desperate for conversation.

"Yup. So can I bet on seeing you around?" She asked, sounding so happy and calm, even though it was her first day. Self-confidence radiated off of her in waves. I wasn't sure how to respond, surprised that she might want to spend time with me, "I mean, as long as I'm cool enough for you to hang out with."

"No no, of course I'll hang out with you, hopefully we have some classes together."

She smiled again. And before the silence that was created could become awkward, the bus was making its way down the road. We got on it and I sat down, slightly surprised when Chloe joined me at my side. I felt... different when she was around. Lighter, almost. Like there was less pressure on me than usual.

But I wasn't an optimist. I knew that once we got to school, the others would be immediately drawn in by her looks, she would be recruited into a group of popular girls and chased after by all the jocks. And in a few weeks time she would be sneering at me in the halls, calling me names, and avoiding me like I was contagious.

I found out that I was wrong about all of those things.

Something was going to go right in my life for once.

And it took a very long time for my pessimism to accept that as reality.


	4. Fast Friends

She was in almost all of my classes. I saw her constantly throughout the day. We even had lunch together. And she sat with me. Even though we had the same classes, though, we couldn't sit together on account of the already assigned seats. But I found myself staring at her. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. How could someone be that gorgeous?

I wasn't the only one who was entranced by her. Every guy in the room turned their heads to her involuntarily. Popular girls looked her up and down and did their best to appear unimpressed but I could see the jealousy they felt. They basically turned green.

Chloe occasionally saw these things, but she didn't care. In fact, the only person she talked to all day was me. I didn't understand why. We barely knew each other. I watched several other people try to get to know her but she dismissed all of them, politely, of course. Sometimes she would catch me staring and when I tried to pretend I wasn't, I might see her smirk slightly before I moved my eyes away. Almost like she was proud.

At the end of the day I decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. I walked very fast away from the school the second the bell rang, for some reason finding myself frantic to get away from her. She made me uncomfortable. She was still a mystery to me in every way, so I didn't know how I was supposed to act around her. This was a good escape - she was going to take the bus, successfully being away from me. I just needed some time for myself.

It was a bad idea. I barely knew the way home on foot. But I was managing.

At least I was until I heard her call out my name from over my shoulder.

"Beca!" She exclaimed. I pretended like I didn't hear her and quickened my pace ever so slightly but it didn't ward her away, "What are you doing walking home?"

I grimaced when she made her way to my side. She was very close to me. More close than I would have expected.

"It's nice out." Was all that I could think to say.

She laughed slightly, one of the most appealing and adorable sounds I had ever heard in my life, "It's fifty degrees and the wind is blowing our hair into knots."

"I like the wind." That was a lie. I still didn't know how I should be acting, and it was stressing me out.

"Oh do you?"

"You think I'm lying?"

She smiled, even though I wasn't looking at her I could literally _feel _it, "No, no. Hey, want to come over to my place when we get back?"

I tensed up, wondering if I could lie about this, "What makes you so sure we live near each other?"

She scoffed, "We have the same bus stop, idiot."

_Good one._ I thought to myself, feeling my cheeks light up with a blush. Well, now I just couldn't lie again, it would seem obvious that I was trying to avoid her.

Forcing a laugh I responded, "You got me there. Okay, sure. I'll go. I have homework to do though..."

"We have all the same classes, idiot. Which means all the same homework."

I wondered if this would lead to us spending time together after school everyday, because if we really wanted to, we could do our homework with one another and it wouldn't seem forced at all. But I didn't want that. She was too perfect. Why was she spending time with me?

"Okay. We can do it together."

"Great." She linked her arm with mine, and it took all of my effort to keep myself from jumping in surprise, "I think we're going to be really fast friends."

"Fast friends". Did I want that? Or would I not let myself believe that could even happen?

Or did I maybe want more than that?

I felt confusion overwhelm me at those thoughts. I didn't like her in that way. I wasn't even sure if I liked her as a friend. But was that just because I thought she was out of my league?

I shook my head back and forth in an attempt to get those thoughts out of it.

It didn't work.


	5. Obvious Excuses

She still made me immensely uncomfortable. Just because she was... intimidating, in a way. She was so confident. And I was the exact opposite of that. The jealousy and admiration I felt was a tad bit overwhelming. It wasn't usual.

She dragged me into her house (by my hand, which made me more nervous, when I thought that wasn't possible) and up the stairs. I heard the bustling of her family in the rooms on the first floor, all of them lively and loud, sounding happy. Without introducing me to any of them, or even telling them that I was there, she led me into her room and shut the door behind her.

I was surprised to see that even though her family was big, her bedroom was her own. It didn't look like it was shared. She walked into it, sitting on a small couch, setting her bag on the floor and yanking a book from under a pillow. Without saying a word to me she flipped to a bookmarked page and started to read, laying down on her back.

I stood awkwardly by the door. I wasn't sure what to do. Or how to act. I wasn't sure of anything. I was just sure that I couldn't take my eyes off of her no matter what.

Finally she looked towards me. Smiling sweetly she sat up, her finger saving her page in the book, her free hand patting a spot next to her. Unable to return her smile, I hesitantly joined her on the couch, sliding my backpack off and putting it next to hers.

"I'm glad that these walls are thick," Chloe said, idly examining the back and cover of the book she held, "My family tends to be..." While she searched for a describing adjective, the vague sound of her family enthusiastically yelling at one another could be heard through the floor. Chloe let out a faint chuckle and replaced the bookmark, closing the book.

"My family's quiet." Was all that I could think of to say in response. I forced my eyes to remain on the floor. It took a lot of effort.

She paused for a moment, "You're lucky then. Sometimes I'm afraid I'm going to strangle someone. I just want some peace for a few minutes every now and again."

I blurted something out without even processing what I was going to say, "My house is peaceful. Usually."

She giggled, "Are you inviting me to your house, Beca?"

I felt myself blushing, "Um... yeah. I mean, you invited me over here. Shouldn't I return the favor?"

Her hand moved to rest on top of mine, the motion startling me. My head snapped to look at her, startled, seeing that she was still smiling at me. And I also realized that we were fairly close to one another. My discomfort intensified.

"I guess you're right..." She intertwined our fingers together, her hand considerably warmer than mine, "...so how about tomorrow? After school? Your place instead of mine?"

I was stunned but I managed to nod. Then I felt myself start to panic, and I pulled my hand from hers, moving off the couch and grabbing my backpack. Homework seemed like a good excuse to avoid this unanticipated social contact.

"We have a lot of stuff to do..." I spoke in a low tone, unzipping the bag and taking out some books.

Chloe shook her head back and forth, and from the corner of her eyes I noticed her clench the hand she had used to hold mine into a white-knuckled fist. But she laughed. Lightly. Quietly. It was forced.

"Okay. Let's do some work then." She said, almost sarcastically. I barely heard her, but she mumbled something under her breath quietly, "...and we only have two assignments..."

I pretended I didn't hear that.


	6. Who Am I?

Chloe stuck more to my side during school the next day and I wasn't sure how to feel about it. I was getting a lot of looks, on account of someone as beautiful as Chloe acting and seeming like my friend. Anyone else probably would have felt honored and happy that she was accompanying them. But it just stressed me out.

The girls at school already knew that I was trying to fit in. They already knew just how insecure I was and just how unsure I was about practically every aspect regarding myself. If they saw some girl like this with me, and they saw how gorgeous she was, they would get jealous of her and in turn jealous of me. Then their insults would just get worse, they would just get harder to block out and harder not to dwell on.

It was inevitable that they would notice. I just didn't want them to.

And I didn't expect Chloe to react the way she did.

My last class ended and I left in a hurry, hoping to lose Chloe in the crowd of people. But it didn't work. She found me and grabbed onto my arm gently. I forced myself to give her a very slight smile, which she returned with an ear-to-ear grin.

"If you want to get away from me you can just say so," She jokingly said. I wasn't sure just how much of that was a joke. Which worried me. I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"I don't want to be late. The teacher has it in for me." That was a bit of a lie.

"Well if we're late, you can blame it on me. How about that?" She linked her arm with mine again. Maybe she legitimately couldn't tell how uncomfortable I was. Or maybe she was in denial.

"That's not necessary..." I mumbled, trailing off when I spotted an all-too-familiar trio of girls hovering at a cluster of lockers nearby. I walked faster. So fast that Chloe's grip on me was lost.

"Hey, hold up speedy!" She caught up to me and latched onto my arm again. It drew unwanted attention.

"Oh look, it's the wannabe." Aubrey said. I cringed at the hated nickname. It was spoken with such spite every time.

I tried to keep walking but Chloe held me to the spot. Was she trying to turn my life upside down?

"What, you have a lackey now?" Stacie asked, gesturing to Chloe. I refused to look at them.

"No." I spoke through clenched teeth.

"So what is she then?" Aubrey asked.

"Your girlfriend?" Stacie asked before a mocking laugh.

That remark hit me especially hard. Just because of how accurate it almost was. I felt myself on the verge of tears .

"I didn't know you were a dyke _and _a wannabe. A double dosage seems a big overkill, don't you think?" Aubrey said.

"Jesus I didn't know that our town had gays in it. We should tell our parents so they can eradicate this before it _spreads."_ Lily said. Her dad was rich. All of their parents were, actually. And from what I knew, they were equally, if not more cruel.

Chloe scoffed, "Oh yeah, because it's totally contagious."

Aubrey laughed, "Oh don't act like _you're _a lesbo too. You're too pretty." I felt her eyes move to me even when I couldn't see them, "And she's _just _ugly enough to pass for one."

Having had enough, I forced myself to walk forward, away from them, ignoring my class and heading towards the bathrooms. I could hear Chloe yelling at them over my shoulder but I just needed to get _away._

Even though the bathroom was far from private it was a better place to stop yourself from crying than the hall was.

Chloe followed me, obviously. I looked into the mirror above the sink and wiped at my eyes desperately, as if trying to push the tears back into them with my fingers.

"Beca, you don't have to take that from them-" She started to say.

"-I don't need you to defend me Chloe."

There was a pause, "...I'm just trying to help."

"I've been fine _without _your help for years."

"But you _don't _have to put up with this."

"You say that like I want it to happen."

"Stand up to them."

"I'm not brave enough for that." I felt tears rolling down my cheeks too fast for me to stop them. I turned to face her, "Can't you tell?"

Chloe looked so saddened by what I was saying, "No. No I can't."

"Then you're blind." I stormed past her, jostling her unintentionally with my arm. I walked home after that. Left school. Skipped class. Dad was at work. Nobody noticed.

I walked into my bathroom. And I stared into the mirror. And I looked at my reflection. And I started sobbing.

_Who am I?_


	7. Stains

**-TRIGGER WARNING-TRIGGER WARNING-TRIGGER WARNING-**

I reached into my medicine cabinet and took out a razor there. It was cold to the touch. When I looked in it I could see my reflection. Or was it really _my _reflection?

Who was I? Who was Beca Mitchell? Was that me? Who _was _I? I felt like I had no personality. Not one of my own. It twisted and morphed depending on who was with me. There were no true qualities inside of me. All of them were false. There was _nothing _inside of me. I was just an empty husk where a person should be.

Nothing was right about me. Nobody cared about me. My dad felt like it was my fault my mother left. I missed her. And I didn't have any other living family. I was alone.

But did my loneliness matter? Did my feelings matter? Did my opinions matter, since they were all spontaneously created to match those that I spent time with? Did my weak, flimsy "friendships" matter?

Did _I _matter?

_No. No I don't. _I thought to myself, answering my own question.

My hand that was holding the blade moved it toward my wrist without myself even noticing it. My breathing was shallow and uneven. My tears hadn't stopped. They had just gotten quieter. My expression was completely blank.

I was so insignificant. I wasn't memorable in any way. I had nothing good to offer to anyone, to the world. I was nothing. I was worth nothing.

I was worthless. Absolutely worthless.

The blade suddenly moved downward in one swift motion, my skin opening, my blood dripping from the new cut and down onto the floor. For a moment it stung. It hurt. I knew it was wrong. I knew I shouldn't be doing it. But I couldn't stop. I just couldn't. My hand continued to move the razor up and down over and over, until my entire forearm looked like it was covered in red tiger stripes.

I was going to have scars from this. I knew that. They were deep. They would be permanent reminders. But I didn't care. Why should I care?

Why should I care about myself when nobody else did? What was the benefit of my existence? It didn't seem like there was one. I couldn't see one.

I added more and more cuts. The pale skin of my arm was beginning to be completely masked by a layer of blood. I felt as if I was out of my body. Like I wasn't really there. Like I mattered even less than I already believed I did. I slowly set the blade onto the sink. It was covered in blood. I looked at the floor. There was a stain of red there, sticking out like a sore thumb on the white tile.

I looked at my reflection again.

"Who are you...?" My vision was starting to blur and my head felt light. Forcing my eyes away from what must have been me, I walked out of the bathroom and staggered into my own bedroom.

I closed the door behind me and locked it. Strange, but the only concern I had at that moment was the fact that my blood was going to stain my sheets.


	8. Disoriented

I was woken up by the sound of someone pounding against my door. My head was throbbing erratically and my chest was so tight it was difficult to breathe. I was incredibly disoriented and at that moment had no idea where I was, what had happened, or who had woken me up. I struggled to get my bearings.

_"Beca!"_ A voice shouted on the other side of the door. Everything I heard sounded as if I was underwater - it was muffled and distorted. I couldn't define who was talking. I realized then that I was laying on a bed.

Grumbling to myself, I managed to lift my body upwards with a considerable amount of effort. I blinked rapidly an attempt to clear my vision, seeing as it was incredibly blurred. The first thing I saw were sheets that I recognized as the ones on my own bed, and the second things I saw were my hands. They had blood on them. Who was bleeding?

_"Beca open the door, please!" _The voice shouted again. My head tilted weakly in that direction but I couldn't muster the energy to bring my line of sight to the door itself. Instead I gave up on trying to look and brought my attention back to my hands.

I looked down more and I saw something that startled me. My forearm was completely coated in blood. _My _blood. It was slightly dried. How long had it been there if it had been able to dry? My head started to hurt even more, the confusion becoming nearly overwhelming. I somehow managed to sit up completely, not having looked away from my wound. The pounding on my door hadn't stopped. If anything it had gotten more persistent and intense.

_"Beca, can you hear me?! Please, __please__ answer me!"_ I barely even registered what this person was saying, being too fixated on my arm.

Still practically delirious, I tried to wipe some of the blood away. When I got some of it off I saw that the source of all of it was a series of moderately deep cuts. I remembered then. They were self-inflicted. I had done this. Earlier. I remembered.

How long had I been unconscious for? How much blood had I lost? I looked towards the sheets, my composure returning to me steadily, and was taken aback at just how much of the white had been tainted with red. My heart leapt into my throat. What had I done?

Should I be regretting it?

It was only when the shouting collapsed into desperate sobs that I realized I should respond to the questions and pleas. Whoever was trying to get in here was worried sick and I had reduced them to tears unintentionally. Stumbling to my feet I was slightly scared at just how unstable my legs were. Standing was so difficult I staggered and my side slammed into the nearest wall, using it as support.

I sidled along the wall, towards the door, which I then remembered locking. When I reached it my hands idly moved to the deadbolt and undid it. A wave of weariness then washed over me and I felt myself collapsing. I pressed my back against the wall right as I sunk down to the floor, grimacing in pain when my forearm accidentally hit my chest.

My door was thrown open frantically and someone burst into the room. My eyelids were fluttering closed and it took ever ounce of effort I had to keep myself awake. I felt more blood beginning to seep from my wounds, probably because I had disturbed them and jostled my arm so much. Whoever had entered gasped in shock before moving to kneel in front of me. I felt myself losing consciousness fast.

"Beca oh my_ God!" _I was starting to recognized who was talking, but just barely. I was still disoriented. Soft hands grabbed my arm frantically, and a finger or two brushed against the cuts, making me wince at the contact, "Sorry! I'm sorry!"

I let my eyes close, staying awake was draining me. But when they did I felt one of the hands gently placed on my cheek, and the voice that was still unknown but greatly comforting held me to the earth.

"Please please don't leave, Beca, please." The person who had been panicking moments before was now speaking so clearly and calmly. It was enough to make me want to look at them more than ever.

My breath now only coming in shallow, short, uneven bursts I forced my eyes opened and almost didn't believe who was in front of me. Chloe sat, looking terrified and devastated, her eyes cloudy with tears and her cheeks glistening with them. Guilt suddenly slammed into me like a brick wall. And I really started to regret what I had done. Even though I still felt as though I deserved it completely, I was only regretting it because of how much it was clearly hurting _her._

But why was she there? We still barely knew each other. I hadn't even been particularly nice to her. I was so strange. So unlikeable. So odd and agitating and unwanted and worthless. Yet there she was, looking more concerned than my father probably would have. I noticed a roll of bandages in her sweatshirt pocket. When had she gotten those?

"Oh thank God you're awake, please stay that way, for just a few seconds okay?" She begged me, her tone so pleading and sweet it was impossible not to give her what she asked. I kept my gaze trained on her face because that was keeping me there more than anything else.

I felt the bandages being meticulously wrapped around my wounds. She was being so careful. So reluctant. I could tell how nervous and frightened she was just by the hesitance of her movements. Every now and then she would look back at my face, as if to check that I was still moderately alright. Honestly, at that moment I hadn't the slightest idea what to feel.

After a minute or so she exhaled shakily and tucked the bandages away. My arm was now covered in white gauze. But my head was still pounding and I struggled to remain conscious. She could tell.

"Beca why would you ever do this to yourself...?" She whispered, more to herself than to me. I was in no condition to respond. My head lolled slightly on my neck and I felt myself passing out. Chloe grasped the sides of my face but not even that was enough to keep me awake.

"You're going to be okay, Beca, alright? I promise, you'll be fine." I was too out of it to analyze her tone for truth. And in the next moment, everything went black, and everything was silent.

Did I want to be okay? Should I be? Or had Chloe just delayed the inevitable?

When was I just going to try and do that again?

Could she stop me another time?

Would I want her to?


	9. Things About You

Chloe lied. She broke her promise. I wasn't fine. I felt as if I would never be "fine" again. I didn't want to do anything anymore. Especially go to school.

After that day, when I left early, when I went home and brought a blade to my wrist, the girls at school got worse. They knew how much they got to me when they mentioned Chloe possibly being my girlfriend and they continued to make jokes regarding the topic. I wasn't sure why it bothered me so much, but every single time they said something to me like that I could literally feel myself falling apart.

Chloe tried to help. She really did. It was sweet, I guess, though I didn't understand it. And if anything the most it did was make me feel even more conflicted.

I didn't know how I felt about her. She was nice. She seemed genuinely concerned about me. But maybe she was just a considerate person in general. Maybe she was doing these things - comforting, defending, consoling - to other people too. Maybe I wasn't as special as I originally thought. Maybe I was worthless and awful. No. I _knew_ I was worthless and awful. It wasn't a question anymore.

In classes now, I didn't even bring my books. I didn't look at the board or the teacher once. I barely spoke a single word throughout the day, hoping to just turn invisible and disappear, maybe melt into the walls. But no matter how silent I was or how inconspicuous I behaved, Aubrey, Stacie and Lily would find me. And their insults would be burned into my mind and wouldn't leave.

After school I got on the bus and sat silently. Chloe always joined me. If she tried to start conversation I wouldn't address it and stared out the window. And when I got home, my father was never there. At least not for a good few hours. During this time was when I was the most unstable and weak. I would stare into the mirror in my bathroom for long intervals. I would take out the razor there and hurt myself, simply because I felt I deserved it. Chloe would sometimes show up, but before she could see, I would put the razor away and hide any signs of what I had been doing.

It was a few weeks after the first time I cut. In total I had probably spoken fifteen words, most of them consisting of one or two syllables, and were only said to my father so as to dissuade him from thinking anything was wrong. He didn't care anyway. My forearm was a complete mess of wounds and scars. And I felt so empty inside. I felt nothing. Nothing except pain. And confusion. Confusion regarding Chloe.

I didn't know what to feel about her. Did I like her? Was that why the girls at school got to me so much? Because what they said was true but I was just reluctant to believe it? Did Chloe feel the same way? Was I gay? I had never once thought of myself as being a lesbian. It just never came to mind. My father wouldn't tolerate that. He had never exactly openly hated homosexuality, but he was intolerant of practically anything he didn't understand or relate to.

I sat in my room, on my bed. I was alone in my house. My sleeve was pulled down, and I just stared at the fabric, having already memorized the patterns of markings on the marred skin underneath it. Still I felt no regret. I often found myself not even feeling like I was human.

I vaguely heard the sound of my front door being closed and I knew that it was Chloe. She usually just showed up. When she was with me we didn't do anything. I didn't talk to her, most of the time I didn't even look at her. The confusion regarding my feelings towards her was making me start to resent her. I hated feeling so uncertain. I hated that the insults of the girls at school were getting so painful and agonizing to hear. I felt like it was her fault, to an extent. And it made me start to steadily hate her.

She walked slowly into my room. I could feel her eyes on me but I didn't look at her. She sat cross-legged on my bed across from me. My chest was tight and my entire body was tense as if I was frozen. Whenever she was around I was so uneasy.

I wondered what she thought of me. Was it just pity that she felt? That was the only thing that made slight sense, it was the only reason that might explain why she was supervising me so vigilantly.

"Hi..." She muttered. I could tell from her tone that she wasn't expecting a response. I didn't plan on giving one. But I didn't want her there.

"Can you please go?" I asked her, my voice listless and incredibly void of emotion. I could tell she was startled by the fact I had talked to her at all. I just wanted her to leave. I didn't want to be near her. Not until I was sure of how I felt. I wasn't sure how long that was going to take. Maybe forever.

"Why?"

"Just _go._" I suddenly spoke with such determination. It even surprised me.

"No." It took her a few seconds to say anything. She was probably considering what should be said.

_"Leave." _

"So you can hurt yourself again?" I looked at her. It almost seemed like she was about to cry. But I doubted that, "I don't think so." She didn't know that I had been adding more and more cuts by the day. She was so oblivious. Most likely because she didn't want to believe it.

"Why do you care?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because _we. Don't. Know. Each. Other."_ I spoke these words through clenched teeth. I was so distraught. I had never felt so terrible in my entire life. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know why I was alive, I didn't know if I should even _be_ alive. I wasn't sure about anything.

"Well then let me get to know you." Chloe insisted. I was surprised she was remaining so patient and adamant.

"Why the _hell_ do you think I'm even worth knowing?"

"Are you?"

I paused for a long time, finally looking away from her. Though I felt many things my expression remained so utterly blank. This wasn't normal behavior. I wasn't normal. Was I ever?

"I don't know."

"Yes or no?"

_"I don't know."_

"How can you 'not know'?"

"I don't know anything about myself, Chloe." I buried my face into my hands at the fact I had just revealed to her, out of all people, that I had no idea who I was. I felt so fragile. Like if another insult was spoken to be I would shatter into a million, irreparable pieces.

"I know things about you." She said after a good few minutes of quiet.

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She scooted closer to me on the bed and gently took my hands in hers. I still found myself amazed at how soft her skin was. And I still thought it made absolutely no sense why she, someone so perfect and flawless, would have anything at all to do with me.

"Your name is Beca Mitchell. You have a dad that you don't really like, and you had a dog once but it died. You're focused in school and you have a B+ average, and you value it a lot even if it might not seem like it. You love music, you love the rain, and apparently you like the wind. You get mistreated by horrible people, and their words get to you more than they should. And you're extremely insecure, but you shouldn't be because you're _beautiful."_

I was speechless but I eventually managed to force out a single question burning in my mind, "Why are you doing this?"

She leaned slightly forward, her forehead resting against mine as she smiled sweetly, "Because you need someone."


	10. Denial

**-POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING-POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING-**

Chloe kept me stable. She didn't lose patience. She never stopped being there. She clearly didn't plan on giving up on me. She listened to me when I wanted to talk and she understood when I remained silent. She didn't pressure me. She was blunt, and brutally honest, but in a way that helped. She had enough hope for me that I even felt it as well, on very, very rare occasions.

I was so thankful. Even if I didn't understand the reasoning behind her actions.

That made me feel even worse, however. Because she still didn't know that I continued to hurt myself, despite her persistent efforts to make me better. Even though I knew how much it would hurt her if she found out, I couldn't stop. I felt as if I needed to. I needed to see the wound, I needed to see that I was hurting, I needed to see that I was being punished, in a way. Because I still felt worthless. And I was thoroughly convinced not even Chloe could change that.

I knew how much it would hurt her if she found out. But I guess I couldn't picture exactly _how_ much.

It was winter. It was cold out. The leaves left the trees, which became barren and bland. The grass lost its color and every day seemed so... grey. It matched the way I felt. I had lost whatever color I may have had. Anything inside of me that may have been even slightly positive, optimistic or interesting had dimmed and or withered. It rained a lot, too - it poured buckets. I usually liked the rain. But now it just seemed excessive.

One day the rain was cold, and it turned to ice when it made contact with the road. The pavement became hazardous and slippery, and school was cancelled because of the dangerous travelling conditions.

I didn't know where Chloe was that day. But after a few hours of her not showing up, I decided that she must be preoccupied with other things. It didn't bother me. My father had left the night before, he was for some reason still convinced that he could find out where my mother went. He tended to leave sometimes for days on end on his searches, leaving me totally alone. The weather shifted drastically and quickly and therefore I assumed he couldn't get back home.

So I was alone. And I didn't feel compelled to lock the door to my bedroom like I usually did. I took the razor from the bathroom again, feeling hollow and empty, yet somehow agonized and _so_ hurt. I sat cross-legged on my bed and I pulled up my sleeve_. _The skin there was so scarred. So... tainted.

If I knew one thing for sure about myself, it was that I was weak. And that I was of no importance whatsoever, regardless of my "personality". If I even had one.

I put the razor to my skin and brought it down once. Only once. Not too shallow, not too deep. I stared at the new cut. And I suddenly felt no need to add more. I set the blade down on my sheets, my blood still clearly visible on the metal. And I just stared at my forearm. And I tried to remember what it looked like before. And I couldn't. Then I tried to remember what I was like before.

And I couldn't.

I buried my face into my hands, willing myself not to cry. It was only then that I heard my door being opened. And I was too scared to look and see who had opened it.

"No..." Was all that I heard. It was spoken too quietly for me to tell who had said it. But I had a foreboding feeling that it was Chloe, even though I wished so terribly that it wasn't. I didn't want her to see me like this, "...please... tell me you didn't..."

That was her. I recognized her voice and her tone. I suddenly felt so ashamed.

"I..." I didn't know what to say. I couldn't bear to look at her. I didn't want to see her expression. Her disappointment. Her sadness. Her pity and worry.

"I thought... y-you seemed..." She couldn't form words. Or she couldn't form the proper ones, "...my God..."

There was a lingering silence absolutely teeming with tension. It was only broken when she stepped frantically towards me. I forced myself to look up. Like I had expected, I had never once seen her so conflicted and hurt. Her eyes weren't on me, however. I watched as she grabbed the razor firmly with two fingers and took a few steps away from me. My blood dripped off of it. Her mouth was agape and her lip was quivering.

She took a deep, shaking breath and rolled up her own sleeve, bringing the blade to hover mere inches above her skin. I froze, feeling a few tears come from my eyes without me even being fully aware of them.

"What are you doing?" I asked her, my voice nothing more than a desperate whisper tinged with confusion and terror.

She looked like she was about to cry as well. But she also looked angry, to an extent. She was just radiating so many different emotions it was impossible to define what they all were, they just mixed together and formed a unique combination of sadness.

"How do you feel right now, Beca?" Her voice was so unsteady yet I could tell just how much she was trying to sound firm.

I stuttered out some things, paralyzed, unable to respond in any way.

"Helpless, right? Like you can't do anything? Or guilty? Because you feel like this is your fault? Worried, because you don't want me to do it, because you don't know what you would do if I did? Scared, because you know you've gotten really attached to me, and you wouldn't know what to do if I wasn't there anymore?" Her voice broke on the last word.

I felt as if I was going into shock. I didn't know how to react. I couldn't react.

"That's how _I _feel about_ you_ - that's how I feel whenever you even _mention _hurting yourself. That's how I feel whenever I notice you staring off into space, looking so lost and lonely and _empty." _She let her grip on the razor falter and it clattered to the floor. She was shaking. And she was starting to cry, "What can I _do_, Beca?! What can I _fucking_ _do__?!_" She was shouting at me now.

I stood up from the bed, our eyes locked, both of us with tears clinging to our eyelashes. She still shook where she stood and it seemed she was so unstable that she might fall at any minute. Not wanting that to happen, I reached slowly forward and gently grasped her arms, preparing to support her if necessary.

"Chloe... I don't know why you're blaming yourself..." I let out a faint, single, bitter laugh, "...I honestly don't even know why you care, or why you're here right now-"

"-see?! It's stuff like _that _that makes me feel so_ useless. _I want to help you. So badly. But I almost feel like you're not _letting_ me! Why not?! Why are you so determined to remain unhappy?!"

"No no, Chloe, you are helping me. Really, you are, I swear."

"Then why are you still using... _that?!"_ She emphatically pointed at the blade still on my floor.

"I just..." My eyes were now on the sleek metal as well, and I couldn't move them away, "...I need..."

"Beca, stop!" She abruptly tugged her arms from my already loose grasp, not necessarily looking angry, more dismayed and upset, "Just stop! I know that you're insecure and everything but you need to _listen _to me, okay?! You are beautiful, and you are interesting, and you are unique and you_ are_ important! I've known that from the first time I saw you at the bus stop! If anyone else doesn't think so, that's because they don't know the _real _you! Because you try to hide that! You change yourself and I don't know why, because you _don't need to be changed!"_

I didn't know what to say to that. I was so confused. This didn't make any sense. I must have been dreaming. It couldn't actually be real. I didn't deserve something like this to legitimately happen.

"I... I don't understand."

Chloe then did something that I wouldn't have ever expected her to do in a million years, especially not at that moment in particular. She moved forward, closing the space between us, and kissed me. She kissed me, and I felt my legs literally give out from surprise. I fell backwards onto my bed but she followed me, persistent, laying on top of me and not breaking our kiss.

I didn't know how to react, so I just tensed up, frozen, unable to comprehend what was happening.

She drew back, both of us breathless, and she whispered to me, "I'm sorry..."

But I grabbed the back of her neck and I kissed her again.

It was instinct. Impulse. But I had a feeling it was also one of the best decisions I had ever made in my entire life.


	11. Alone With A Stranger

I thought things would be different after that, I thought that things would be better, easier. But that wasn't the case. Everything got more complicated. Everything was different. And I wasn't sure if it was in good or bad way.

After I kissed Chloe back, she pulled away from me, her expression unreadable, before leaving my room without another word. And if anything I just felt worse than I had before. I felt like I had ruined something unintentionally. I felt like she would never talk to me again. Things weren't going to be the same, not ever.

Even after everything Chloe had done for me, even after all the things she had tried to do, even after she had stuck by my side and been so sweet and helpful, I still felt like I was living inside the body of a complete stranger. Right when I was thinking I was starting to discover what I truly was like, right when I was thinking I could start to be an interesting, genuine person, Chloe left. Just walked right out of the room. And I felt so alone.

Alone with a stranger.

She didn't follow me through the halls anymore. She didn't come over to my house uninvited after school. She didn't arrive when I was at my worst to comfort me or just to be there. She didn't even take the bus anymore, she either walked or got a ride. She was starting to act as if I didn't exist. And it was making me really start to believe that was true. It even made me start wishing that it was true.

She had kept me grounded. She held me to the Earth even when I so wanted to just let go and leave it all behind me. Now she was gone. What was I to do? I felt so lost and abandoned and hopeless.

When she had shouted at me that day, when she had told me how my self-harming made her feel, I had subconsciously made a decision never to do it again. But then she had taken herself entirely out of my life. She left me. And I needed an outlet. And the blade was still in my room, she hadn't taken it. So I still used it.

It was different though. The cuts were deeper. Wider. Because I didn't feel any sort of reason to remain alive. Not without her. Somehow the bleeding always managed to stop, though it took a good few hours and it left me feeling very lightheaded. My father never noticed any of it. He didn't notice how empty and emotionless I was when I walked around the house and he didn't notice my lack of contact with him. He didn't care. He wouldn't care if I was gone.

And apparently neither would Chloe.

I just wanted to talk to her one more time. Ask her what I had done wrong. Try to rectify it. Anything to get her back into my life. Anything at all. But she avoided me. Very effectively, I might add. I never even got into a range where if I shouted she would be able to hear. In class she didn't look at me anymore. It was like I wasn't there. Like I didn't exist. Maybe I should make it so I truly didn't exist. Maybe that would just make it easier on everyone else.


	12. Hypnotic Headlights

Nobody noticed me and my life didn't mean anything, I really saw no point in even staying in my house, or going to school. The girls hadn't stopped bullying me, and it had gotten worse after Chloe's abandonment, because they kept saying things about us "breaking up" and they really didn't understand just how close they were to being accurate about that. It hurt so much.

Over one weekend, probably about three weeks since I had any contact with Chloe, I just walked outside and down my street, in the opposite direction of her house. Despite how much I wanted to see her, I knew she didn't want to see me. And I didn't want to upset her. I never had. I hadn't meant to.

I didn't know where I was going. I wasn't sure what I was doing. But I knew why I was doing it. I needed to escape. Though I wasn't sure exactly what I was escaping from, I abruptly just felt like I _needed _to get away from it. Maybe it was my newly acquired suicidal urges that seemed to be becoming stronger and stronger with each passing day. Maybe it was my feelings for Chloe that frightened me because of their intensity even when I had yet to define completely what they were. I wasn't sure. I wasn't really sure of anything anymore.

I went to a bus stop in the middle of downtown. It was busy there. People were walking past me, not even slightly glancing in my direction. I felt invisible. Unimportant. Worthless. Like nothing. I wrapped my arms around myself when I got into too thick of a crowd because I started to feel scared. Nervous. Unsafe. Judged.

It started raining and everyone on the street started to retreat into buildings. The sun had already been setting and the clouds made it seem like it was late at night. I didn't mind the rain but I felt odd just standing out in the open, alone on the sidewalk. So I walked to the nearest bus stop and sat beneath the awning, already soaking wet on account of standing in the downpour so long.

My clothes stuck to my skin and my hair was flattened, pressed against my face and neck. I had already most likely been crying but the rain masked any signs of emotional distress. That was until I lost all of my control out of the blue and started quietly sobbing into my hand. Nobody else was at this bus stop. Perhaps nobody needed to take the bus. Or perhaps they saw me there, a strange looking, alone, weeping teenage girl, and veered themselves away - instead going to a different one.

I felt as if I couldn't move though my body shook violently. My chest physically hurt. What was I doing? Why had I ruined my life like this? _How _had I ruined my life like this? What had I done? It was bad enough before. But now it was literally unbearable. I couldn't do it anymore. I just couldn't. I needed someone.

I needed Chloe.

Like she had said, that one day, what felt like years prior. She knew that I needed someone. And for a while, she became that someone. But then she got too close to me. And I accepted her advances. And as soon as I did, as soon as I let my walls come down, as soon as I let myself really trust someone for the first time, she left. Just as quickly as she had arrived, she was gone again.

There was a road not too far off from where I sat. It was busy. Cars drove quickly on it, some people pushing the speed limit a bit, and the amount of vehicles hadn't decreased on account of the weather. I could tell that there were bound to be a few accidents that night. Why shouldn't I be the cause of one? It would just take one "accidental" step. One motion, one movement into the road, one bone-shattering impact, and it would be over. All of it would be over. That idea sounded extremely tempting to me.

Too tempting to resist.

I slowly, shakily stood up, my legs feeling unstable and my body feeling like it was about to physically shatter into a million irreparable pieces. The rain continued to come down in buckets and weighed me down, making me feel even more like I was about to collapse.

I reached the edge of the sidewalk, my feet teetering off of the edge of the pavement, very close to just stepping out into the road. Cars that passed by were luckily going too quickly to notice me, in the darkness of this storm, with no streetlights nearby. My hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. I was still crying but the raindrops were effective in camouflaging my emotional distress.

I heard footsteps from behind me, even over the very noisy sounds the rain was creating. The only reason I heard them were because they were the only ones audible. Everyone else was gone. I assumed it was someone emerging from the buildings, maybe somebody getting a ride, or someone going to the bus stop now that I was no longer awkwardly sitting there. But when I listened more intently, it sounded as if they were getting closer to me. I tensed up.

"Who's there?" I spoke, my voice quaking and weak, just loud enough for this person to hear if they had been paying distinct attention to me. If they hadn't been approaching me, they wouldn't have noticed. I prayed I didn't get a response.

But I did nonetheless, "What are you doing?" The person's voice was raised. Because I wouldn't have been able to understand them otherwise, the wind abruptly howling exceptionally louder than it had been before. It's force made me wobble a bit where I stood since I had already felt as if I was going to fall over.

"Nothing." I responded after a few minutes, still not turning around. My attention was directed entirely on the pairs of headlights that flitted by me as cars passed. They were hypnotic. I knew that one step would place me in front of those cars. And that would be it.

"You're too close to the road." I for some reason couldn't tell if the voice sounded casually monotone or as if the person was trying desperately to subdue their immense concern. The rain distorted the voice a bit. I couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman.

"What's it to you?"

"You might slip."

"What if I want to slip?"

There was a pause. A considerable one. It was lingering and seemed to suck all of air out of my lungs because I was holding my breath without even realizing it.

"Why would you want that?" The person finally asked.

"Because." I started to breathe again.

"You would hurt yourself."

"You're rather dense aren't you?"

Another pause. And a few more footsteps. I couldn't tell if the person was moving closer or farther back.

"I think you should head home."

"I don't want to go home."

Pause.

"Your family is going to worry."

"They don't care about me."

Pause.

"I'm sure that isn't true."

"You don't know that. You don't even know me."

Pause. It was almost as if I could predict when this person would stop talking. Each lapse in question and answer was just irritating me, however, and making me more tense.

"Apparently, nobody knows you."

This time, _I _was the one to hesitate in answering. I was confused. Who was this person? But I didn't turn around. No. If anything, I felt my feet scoot a little more over the edge of the pavement, feeling a magnetic pull almost tugging me straight into the road, but some other unknown force held me to my spot.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't even know yourself."

I couldn't move now. I was shocked. How did this person know that? Was it that obvious? Or did they know me? But, nobody knew how I felt about that. Nobody except...

...no, it couldn't be her. It wouldn't be. What were the odds of her being here? The odds of her spotting me out here, in this utter darkness, about to step out into the busy road? But my heart had leaped into my throat and nearly choked me. It was beating erratically and was swelling as well.

When I spoke, my voice broke, and I couldn't project it at a higher volume than the small squeak it came out as, "...Chloe...?"

There was a silence. It was so long I thought that whoever was there might have just been a figment of my imagination. It felt like hours before I got a response. And it made me almost dive right into the road as soon as I heard it.

"What are you doing here, Beca?"

My next breath got caught in my throat and I held it in, exhaling it in a quiet gasp to myself. This was the first time she had spoken to me in weeks. Almost a month, now. The rain was making me shudder. I felt more fragile than ever - so broken and wounded.

I suddenly felt so _angry. _So unbelievably angry. I didn't know why. Maybe it was all of my negative emotions just trying to become one, instead of a jumbled mess of a thousand different feelings. But I just started seething. It was an anger full of pain, though. Showing just how hurt I was. Just how much she had hurt me.

I spun around so fast I almost fell over into the road. Chloe stood there, in a jacket with the hood pulled up, her hands in her pockets with the most blank expression I had ever seen on anyone's face. I felt myself glaring. She still looked absolutely beautiful, even when I was so abruptly infuriated with her.

_"Where __were__ you?!" _I shouted at her at the top of my lungs, glad that there were no other people around to witness this confrontation.

She didn't say anything. Just stared at me. Her expression didn't change either, not even for a second.

_"Where did you fucking __go__?! Why did you leave me?! What happened?!" _She didn't say anything. My blood was boiling, _"I thought you said you would be there for me?! I thought you were going to keep me safe?! I thought you were going to stay by me through this, I thought you wanted me to get better and more confident?!"_

Though she still showed no emotion she responded slowly, calmly, "I do want you to get better."

I felt my teeth gritting, _"Then why did you __leave__?!" _I started to cry. I couldn't help it. I placed a hand over my mouth when the fist sob slammed into me like a brick wall and I shook again, wanting _so _badly to just throw myself in front of the next passing car. She didn't make one move to comfort me. Not in any way.

"Because I..." She didn't finish the explanation and instead just sighed, looking at the ground. Her expression at least showed that she was a little dismayed. That was something.

_"Chloe I needed you! And then you just left!" _I couldn't control the volume of my voice. I was absolutely _screaming. _I had never done anything like that before. Mere months before I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams that this would be happening: that I would be standing in the middle of a rainstorm shouting at a girl I had kissed after she had abandoned me.

"I wasn't thinking." Was all that she said in response, still not looking at me.

_"You weren't __thinking__?! That's your excuse?! That's your excuse for leaving me, broken and shattered and alone?! That's your excuse for providing me with all of this false hope and then just breaking every promise you ever made me all at once and leaving me to __die__?!"_

She suddenly looked up at me at those words, now looking serious and curious, "Is that why you're standing here? To die?"

_"__**YES**__**.**__" _I didn't hesitate at all in telling her that.

Her facade of being unaffected by this conversation dissolved at that one word. Her face fell and her mouth curled into a bitter frown, her eyes becoming slightly glossy and her entire demeanor changing completely. I felt whatever remnants of my heart disintegrate into dust. I didn't know what to do.

"Beca..." She shook her head back and forth as if in denial and she wouldn't move her eyes from mine, "...please don't. Don't."

_"Please don't what?! Jump in front of these cars and finally be free of all of the pain and lies?!"_

"Don't, Beca I _need _you..."

I laughed at her, "You don't 'need' me. Nobody 'needs' me." Tears were still streaming down my face and I was still shaking violently.

"I do."

"No you _don't_. Stop trying to pretend that you do. _You _left _me. _Not the other way around."

"I'm sorry." The way she said that, the sincerity to her words, it made me stop still. It made my brain slow down. It made me think. But then I stopped. And I just got more angry.

_"Why are you still __fucking__**here**__?!" _I shouted at her, taking a step closer on the last word to emphasize my point.

There were so many emotions displayed in just her eyes, it was too hard to read them in my current state, "I can't lose you."

That hit me hard. I stepped back again, my feet practically on the pavement of the road, noticing the way Carmen's shoulders tensed up when I did. I started sobbing again, "I just can't do this anymore, I can't..." Whatever I planned on explaining just collapsed into more uncontrollable tears.

"Yes you can, Beca, you're so strong!" She stepped closer to me, "I can help you. You'll get through this, _I'll _get you through this."

I scoffed bitterly at her, glaring once again, my rage and overwhelming frustration returning, "Oh yeah, like you did _last _time?!"

She looked down and may have even blushed a little though it was hard to tell.

"Why shouldn't I just fucking _go?! _It's one step, one motion, and then I'm gone forever! It would be _so __simple__. _Give me _one _good reason to stick around in this sad excuse for a life!"

_"Because I love you!"_

I froze. My expression of rage fell. Chloe looked shocked at herself.

I couldn't do this. I couldn't be there. With her. Not with all of this happening. We both stood, paralyzed, our mouths agape but unable to form words, until I couldn't stand it anymore and I just turned and ran.

I ran away from her. I was the one that left that time.

She couldn't love me. She didn't know me.

_I _didn't know me. And I didn't love myself.

Nobody should love me.

But then why did I hear her crying when I ran away?


	13. Unwelcome

I hadn't been to school in what felt like forever. Probably a week straight of just skipping it altogether and remaining locked in my bedroom, not knowing what to do with myself in the slightest.

I was a complete mess. I felt unable to do anything. I didn't know what I might even _want _to do. Chloe had completely turned my life upside down, inside out, twisted it in every possible way and was more than able to just snap it in half if she so pleased.

My arms were littered with so many cuts it seemed my skin might just fall off of them I added any more. So I moved the cutting to my thighs, and to my stomach. Some nights I lost so much blood, I genuinely thought I might die, but I would only pass out, waking up later on the next day with a small pool of blood around whatever area I had focused the blade on.

At some point I guess the teachers noticed my absence and were either getting concerned or confused, most likely the latter, because they somehow contacted my father about it. He was not happy. I guess he assumed I had been going. He was so uninvolved in my life and rarely ever saw me either way, so he must not have noticed me not attending.

But one day, after what felt like years (to me) of being cooped up in my room, my train of thought was interrupted by a heavy pounding on my door. I was laying on my bed and really didn't feel like getting up. I knew it would either be my father or Chloe, none of which I wanted to see in the slightest.

"Beca?!" I recognized the deep, booming voice, knowing it belonged to my father, "Beca Mitchell, you come out of that room _this instant!"_

Ignoring him would just make him more angry, and he would probably end up breaking it down somehow. Sighing to myself I hauled my limp, fragile body upwards, making sure my sleeves were pulled down, and walked to the door, unlocking the deadbolt. I then took a few steps back, waiting until he turned the knob again.

He burst into the room, clearly seething with rage. I for some reason felt nothing but indifference as I watched him, steam practically coming from his ears, take a few menacing steps forward.

_"Why on Earth do you think it's okay to skip school?!" _He screamed at me, inches from my face. I didn't even flinch, which only made him angrier, _"How much do I have to __scream__ at you before learn how to behave?!"_

I shrugged.

_"I can't even think of a proper punishment for this, nothing would be severe enough!"_

I shrugged again.

_"You're ridiculous! I can't believe my own daughter would turn out to be such a disappointment! Is there anything __else__ you want to tell me, anything else that would further lower my opinion on you?!"_

His words caught my attention that time. Yes. I had a few things. The fact that I spent practically all of my time either crying, sleeping, or slicing my skin open with a razor was one of them. And another was the fact I might very well be a lesbian. I stared blankly into his eyes. What was the point of lying? I had nothing to gain. I didn't fear punishment. I didn't fear anything anymore, besides encountering Chloe.

"Yeah." I said, my voice listless and fragile, "I kissed a girl and I'm probably gay." Even I was surprised at how casually that came out.

I don't remember much of what happened after that, mainly because I've blocked it out over time. But I'm pretty sure that he hit me at least once. And I distinctly remember him hauling me out of my room by my arm, screaming things that started to become ambiance in the background, and then tossing me onto my front yard. And I also remember what he shouted at me before he slammed the door shut.

"You're not welcome here".

I wasn't sure what to do. So I just sat there on my front lawn, numb. It was drizzling out. The sky was a deep grey color. Nobody seemed to be around to see me, that was good, at least.

I had nowhere else to go. I had no other family. None of my "friends" even wanted me to come over to their house, let alone stay at it. Yes, despite how much I didn't want to believe it, Chloe's house really was my only option. I glanced at it from the corner of my eye. To absolutely anyone else, it would have seemed like a very welcoming environment, warm lights in every window, smells of delicious homemade food wafting out of them, the colors of the wallpapers bright and happy, the general atmosphere very calming.

But to me, it seemed like hell.

Because I knew that going there would involve Chloe.

And I had no idea how I felt about her.

I stood up after probably half an hour. By that point I had gotten fairly wet and I was starting to shiver involuntarily. Sighing to myself, I walked to Chloe's house and sat on her front steps, not at all having the courage to knock on the door and be greeted by her family that had never met me. I buried my face into my hands, which were clenched into tight fists - my sleeve wadded up within them so as to ensure nobody would see my arms.

I just waited. I waited, for hours on end, tense, barely breathing, for some reason not feeling tears coming to my eyes because frankly, I was so broken apart I was beginning to find crying pointless. It wouldn't change anything. I was still thoroughly convinced that death would be my only escape from this horrible, unbearable life.

But I didn't understand why I hadn't just killed myself already. It was strange.

"Beca?" A timid voice spoke from in front of me.

I looked up, revealing my face, to see Chloe standing there. She held her books against her chest tightly, and the expression she wore was so full of emotion I wouldn't be surprised if _she _started crying. Mainly she did seem a bit surprised. Also nervous. Also sad. Also guilty.

"W-what are you doing here?" She asked me cautiously, taking another step forward in a very hesitant manner, as if she was afraid I was going to start screaming at her. Honestly, I felt like I didn't have enough energy too. Every motion I made caused me to exert much more energy than I normally would have.

I looked down, breaking our eye contact, staring at my feet.

"My dad kicked me out of the house because I told him that I kissed you." Again, I said this like it held so much less meaning than it truly did.

She gasped very slightly and very quietly. But I had heard it.

"Oh... um..." I heard her step forward some more, and she sat next to me on the step, gently setting her books down between us as if to show me she didn't plan on getting too close, "...I'm sorry..." Clearly she didn't know what to do.

"I don't have anywhere to go."

There was a silence for a while. I could practically feel her thinking. I would glance at her out of my peripheral vision and see her hands clasped tightly, her knuckles white. I wondered how pitiful I looked. Shoulders sagging, face unnaturally void of emotion, hands desperately clenching my sleeves to cover my arms.

"You can stay with me, if you want." She sounded more confident than I would have anticipated.

I didn't want to, actually. But I had no choice.

"Okay."


	14. Only Option

**_-POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING-POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING-_**

"Here..." Chloe spoke cautiously, offering me a pair of clothes to wear. Her arms were fully extended and she stood as far from me as she could get. I wasn't sure if she was doing it on her own accord or if she just didn't want to make me uncomfortable.

I took the clothes without a word to her. I felt so odd in this house, it wasn't mine. I didn't know the people that lived here. I only knew Chloe. And the last thing in the world I wanted to do was interact with her.

She had briefly introduced me to her parents who greeted me warmly, then she led me to her bedroom, closed the door, and went downstairs again, most likely to properly explain my presence. I assumed my staying there was alright because Chloe had yet to tell me otherwise. I just wasn't sure how long I would be allowed.

"Um... you can change in here, I'll just wait outside." She said after a few lingering seconds, before exiting her bedroom and leaving me alone.

After she left, I let out a breath that I felt I had been holding in since I first saw her. I clenched my eyes tightly shut, abruptly acquiring a mild headache. My chest was tight and my shoulders were permanently tense.

I quickly changed into what Chloe had given me. They fit, we were about the same size. She was a bit taller though. A bit.

It was slightly sobering to think that the only thing I would miss or regret forgetting at my house was my razor. I felt as if I needed that. I was probably going to go insane without one.

I sat on Chloe's couch, fists automatically grasping the ends of my sleeves. I hugged my knees against myself, hiding my face as I contorted into a sort of ball. I didn't want to be seen by anyone. I just wanted to be gone. So badly.

Chloe's door opened and shut again a few seconds later. She had come back in, obviously. I didn't hear any footsteps for a while, until finally she moved, thankfully not towards me but instead towards her bed. She sat down on it. Occasionally I could feel her eyes on me.

"...What do you plan on doing...?" She asked me, her voice quiet and slightly shaky.

I didn't plan on staying at Chloe's house forever. But I had nowhere else to go. And I could tell that there was no convincing my father to allow me back. I was unwelcome there, and I just had to accept that.

What I truly planned on doing was killing myself. But I obviously wasn't going to tell Chloe that.

"I don't know."

I heard her shift slightly where she sat, clearly uncomfortable, probably more so than I seemed. I just felt unable to clearly show any emotions. I felt so empty, but so pained at the same time. It was agonizing and confusing. I had literally no hope left, not even a slight spark. There was nothing that could keep me holding onto this life. Absolutely nothing.

"Well you can stay here until you figure it out..."

"...Thanks."

There was another pause. But this one lasted for hours. Neither of us said anything. Neither of us knew what to say. So we just sat there, silently, the air so heavy it might cause us to sink into the floor.

My mind kept repeating the words that Chloe had said to me that night, what felt like years before: "Because I love you".

Was that still true?

I was sleeping on the couch. Chloe offered me her bed but I refused. I wasn't going to take advantage of her hospitality to such an extent. She provided me with a pillow and a small blanket. And then she went to sleep.

I laid there, wide awake, however. For some reason I found myself unable to even close my eyes for a prolonged amount of time when she was in the room. She made my entire demeanor change. She made me feel so many things, none of which I necessarily wanted to feel.

When I was convinced she was no longer conscious, I stood from the couch, being careful not to make a sound. Chloe was laying on her side, facing the wall, away from me. From what I could hear, her family was also asleep. I would be able to tell if they were awake. They definitely made their presence known.

Somehow managing to remain silent, I made my way out of Chloe's room, down the stairs, and into her kitchen. All of the lights were off. Nobody was down there. I felt entirely alone. Everything was completely quiet. It was relieving. Also a bit unnerving.

I remembered what I had come there for and I started to open all of the drawers and cabinets I could find, knowing that I was lucky when opening them made no noise.

Finally, I found what I had been searching for. A knife. Any blade would have worked, but this was the one I picked up first. It was small. Sharp. I just needed to give myself a few cuts. For a reason I truly wasn't sure of, it made me feel a bit better. Not better enough to want to remain alive, but better enough to survive at least another few hours.

Rolling up my sleeve for the first time in a few days, even I was slightly taken aback at just how marred the skin there was. Cuts practically covered the entire surface, in all sorts of criss-cross patterns, in every direction you could think of, all of them varying in length and depth. One more couldn't hurt, right?

Before I could over-think it I brought the knife to the already scarred flesh and pressed down ever so slightly, watching the blood emerge, trail down my forearm into my palm, and drip off my index finger. The drops of crimson hit the linoleum floor and splattered, making small little designs that almost looked like flowers.

I moved the knife slightly upwards to create another wound, but right as the metal pressed even slightly against my skin, a voice snapped me out of my thoughts and caught my utmost attention.

"Stop it."

I jumped slightly where I stood, surprise being the only clear emotion I had expressed since I entered that house. When I looked up I saw Chloe standing there, just staring at my arm, her frown bitter. It was too dark to tell for sure if her eyes were glossy, but I had a growing suspicion that they were.

She didn't say anything else and instead just walked towards me in a fairly calm manner. This was the closest she had willingly gotten to me since I had arrived. She reached forward and slowly pried the knife from my fingers, me not making any motions to stop her or to resist for some reason.

I watched as she placed the knife in the sink nearby, briefly running it under the water so as to get all of my blood off of it. She then looked back towards me, more specifically, at my arm. She had never seen it that bad before. I could tell that she was deeply concerned, worried, and guilt-ridden.

She approached me again. I tensed up, becoming stiff as a board when her soft fingers gently grasped the forearm I had cut, not at all tight enough to cause any pain. The recent ones I had made were not as deep as I planned on making them. She had stopped me before I had gotten the chance. I could tell that they would stop bleeding in a matter of hours. But Chloe was not so reassured.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" She asked me in a light, saddened whisper, now staring intently into my eyes.

"I deserve it." I responded after a few seconds, unable to break our eye contact that was very meaningful and was conveying a lot of emotions, none of which I was able to put a name to.

I could tell just how much that brief explanation had hurt her. It hit her hard. She inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly a few times before releasing her next word in her exhale, "No." She shook her head back and forth, "No you don't." She was starting to cry. I could tell. I didn't want her to cry.

Just because she had greatly confused me didn't mean I resented her in any way. I still cared about her. I was just unable to further define those feelings. That wasn't her fault.

Her lip started to quiver and it looked like she planned on backing away, or leaving altogether. I didn't want her to go and hide and cry alone somewhere else in the house. I didn't even want to imagine that. Finally allowing some emotions seep into my expression, I let it show pity and guilt and sadness.

I reached forward and hugged her tightly, successfully holding her to the spot. I felt her stiffen, clearly surprised, and it was silent for a few moments though I didn't loosen my grip in the slightest.

Finally, she returned the embrace and wrapped her arms around me with equal if not greater force, right as she started sobbing hysterically into my shoulder so as to muffle the sounds. She was shaking. I felt her hands desperately clutch the fabric of the back of my shirt.

"You don't need to hurt yourself..." She mumbled out, the already quiet words muffled. I heard them nonetheless. I sighed slightly to myself.

"There's nothing else I can do."

Chloe held onto me tighter.

I wouldn't be surprised if she never let me go.


	15. Take It Back

Chloe said I should start going to school again. She really wanted me to. But I knew that I couldn't. After all the classes I had missed and all of the insults I had avoided, I knew that it would be too much for me to deal with in the unstable state that I was in. But Chloe's family would notice if I didn't attend, and although they wouldn't react in the way my father had, they wouldn't be happy to know I was skipping.

So instead, I woke up at the same time Chloe did, I walked down to the bus stop with her, we might exchange a few words on a good day, and then I would walk to the end of the street when the bus came, and go sit on a street bench for the duration of the school day. It wasn't overly interesting. But I didn't know what else to do with myself.

After about a week and a half of doing this, there was a half-day at the school. Chloe hadn't told me about it. I guess it just slipped her mind or she didn't think it was important to tell me.

But a half-day meant that all of the students got out of school much sooner than usual. And while I sat on that bench, my mind wandered to such an extent I was barely aware of what was happening around me. So I didn't notice when the school bus drove past three hours before it normally would. I only came to my senses when someone literally grabbed me by the shoulder and shook me roughly.

The bench was really only a few steps from a string of stores which sold accessories, clothes, and food. I personally had never shopped in any of these businesses only because I knew who often went to them.

Aubrey, Stacie, and Lily.

I felt safe when I was there during school hours though. Because there was no way they would be there. They would never skip, because their daddies would confiscate something from their pampered lives if they didn't maintain their B- averages. But it was a half-day. And I didn't know.

I blinked twice, confused at the unexpected contact, and I looked up from staring at the pavement of the sidewalk. And I inhaled so quickly I thought I might choke on air. My entire body tensed up.

Lily withdrew her hand from me and shook it theatrically, as if I was contagious or covered in some sort of slime. She stood next to the others. I found my chest constricting more and more with each dragged out second they just stared at me, all of them sneering in distaste.

"Is this where you've been for like, a year?" Stacie asked, hands on her hips, a plastic bag full of clothes wrapped around her wrist.

I didn't say anything.

"Haven't you flunked out yet?" Lily added. She held a stryofoam cup in another hand.

"There's a limit to the days you can be absent, you know." Aubrey told me, like she was some astute guru and was informing me on the ways of life.

Again, I said nothing. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if they actually wanted me to respond to them or if they just wanted to pelt me with questions and most likely insults.

"_God_ I'm glad you haven't been there, though," Aubrey started to speak after a minute or two of heavy silence, "The entire school seems happier with you gone." The corner of her mouth was slowly, gradually curling upwards and forming her expression into that of a cruel smirk.

She really didn't know how much that got to me. If the school really wanted me gone, why shouldn't I just take myself from the world altogether?

"You guys, don't you think it looks like she got_ uglier_ over time?" Lily asked. Every word she spoke felt like a stab in the chest but my expression remained unreadable and void of clear emotion.

"Oh, you're _so_ right." Stacie spoke with enthusiasm, "Hmm... it also looks like she's kind of sad..." Her voice showed no concern. It was absolutely dripping with sarcasm.

"It's probably because her girlfriend dumped her, remember?" Lily said.

"Oh yeah... that girl has been kind of sad in school too. God Mitchell, it seems like you ruined her life."

"It even sort of seems like she's getting _less_ pretty with each day." Aubrey said.

"Stop it..." I spoke in a mutter, looking away from them. I didn't care when they insulted me. Even though their words were painful to hear, I felt as if they were all true. But they were lying about Chloe. She could never get less beautiful.

"Oh! It looks like we struck a nerve!"Lily seemed overly excited.

"What's the matter Mitchell, you don't like it when we make fun of your _girlfriend?_" Stacie taunted.

"They broke up, though, remember?" Aubrey reminded them before looking back at me, "Why is it you're so defensive when you two aren't even together anymore?"

"We were _never_ together." I spoke clearly that time, glaring at her. I finally stood up from the bench and started to walk away-

-when a hand grabbed my forearm, to tug me back into the conversation no doubt, a motion that I normally would have shaken off with little difficulty. But the hand was now clamped firmly on all of my cuts. All of my scars. And it hurt _so_ badly. And I couldn't help but cry out in pain, turning around frantically and yanking my arm from Aubrey's grasp.

There was a silence for a while. I could feel something on my arm. Like blood had started to seep from my cuts. I was wearing Chloe's jacket. I didn't want to get my blood all over it. But I didn't plan on revealing just how weak I was to the three girls that I feared most on Earth.

It was as if Stacie had been reading my thoughts, because she reached forward abruptly, yanking my sleeve and tugging it upward. The fabric of the jacket scraped against the cuts and I cringed, trying to back away again, but Stacie was holding me to the spot. Aubrey was just watching. She looked extremely pleased. Especially when my forearm was not covered in any way. And they could see.

Yes, when Aubrey grabbed my arm the cuts started to bleed. Now the skin there, already marred and torn apart, was bleeding as well. The blood dripped down and off of me, hitting the pavement I stood on. I was mortified.

All three of them burst out laughing at the same time. My head started to throb with each maniacal cackle they emit. My cheeks lit with a blush and I got so tense it felt like I had turned into stone.

"_Wow_ Mitchell, I never thought you'd do _that _too! God you were bad enough before, now you're gonna go all emo?" Stacie laughed, still gripping my sleeve to prevent me from sprinting away like I so wanted to.

"I've always thought that was so pathetic. Why can't you just cry and eat ice cream like everyone else?" Lily asked me tauntingly. I couldn't believe their arrogance.

"Maybe she just knows that she shouldn't be here anymore but she's too scared to go all out." Aubrey said, her tone different from the others'. This time she sounded dead serious. The other times they had been in a mocking tone or were said sarcastically. Lily and Stacie even stopped still for a second, Aubrey had caught their full attention.

Aubrey took a few menacing steps towards me until she was inches from my face, "It used to be fun making fun of you. But now it's just annoying to see that you're still _alive._ Why don't you do something right for once in your life and cut yourself deep enough to bleed out?"

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My body went numb. Had she really just said that?

Was she serious?

_"Take that back you bitch!" _Someone shouted from behind me. I was too frozen to look. I was almost too frozen to even comprehend what was spoken.

Since I was paralyzed to where I stood, I could only gauge my three tormentors' reactions to get an idea of who might be talking. I watched as Aubrey smiled devilishly, letting out a laugh, her eyes not on me but instead on something or someone over my shoulder.

"Hey Mitchell, it looks like your ex has come to try to rekindle your lost love." Aubrey said. She sounded so pleased with herself.

Chloe? Chloe was there? Why would Chloe be there?

What had she heard?

_"Shut up!"_ I recognized the voice now. It was Chloe. She was right behind me. I was glad that there weren't any other people on the street at the moment, all of them being inside stores or just not in the area.

Aubrey was trying to keep an unaffected expression, but I could tell that she was a bit shaken. I still couldn't bring myself to turn around. All of my effort was now being put into keeping my tears back. My body was starting to lose its numbness. And it was being replaced with pain. _Agonizing,_ _unbearable_ pain.

Chloe stepped in front of me, in between Aubrey and I. She even forcefully grabbed Stacie's hand and ripped her grasp off of my sleeve. I was unable to move to pull my sleeve back down.

Chloe was absolutely seething with rage. I had never seen her that angry before. Her fists were clenched with white knuckles.

_"Don't say that! Don't fucking say that! Leave her alone! What has she ever done to you?!"_ Chloe screamed, inches, if not centimeters in front of Aubrey's face. Now Aubrey was unable to hide the way she truly felt. I saw just how confused and worried she was about how the situation had abruptly turned against her.

_"Get the fuck out of here! Leave!" _Chloe shouted. Aubrey opened her mouth as if to retort, but she was cut off_, "No! Don't even try it! Go now before I claw your fucking eyes out!"_

The three girls backed away in unison, all of them looking as if they were desperately trying to retain some kind of dignity and not just run away in terror. Aubrey looked as if she was trying the hardest.

"Whatever. This was a waste of time anyway."

With that they were gone. They just turned and left.

Chloe slowly tilted her head, looking at me. I was slightly surprised at how much emotion was shown in her expression. Still unable to move, I watched as she slowly reached toward my arm, gently grabbed my sleeve and tugged it downward, concealing my cuts again.

"Beca..." She faced me completely, "...you don't believe what they said..." I felt her cautiously intertwine our fingers together, "...right?"

I couldn't handle this. I couldn't process everything that had just happened. My mind was buzzing with so many thoughts it felt like my head was a beehive. I was flooding with so many emotions and I didn't know how to deal with any of them. I needed to get away. I needed to leave.

Permanently.

I pulled away form her, taking a few steps back, yanking my hand from her grasp a little too forcefully. I could literally feel how much that pained her. Her expression showed it as well.

My body started shaking considerably as I started to cry. I couldn't help it. They were uncontrollable, hysteric sobs. I placed a hand over my mouth, briefly taking note of how upset Chloe looked before I turned and ran from her. Again.

That might very well may be the last time I saw her.


	16. Relief

My dad still went to work. Just because he was practically disowning me didn't mean that he changed his everyday schedule. He was also still too dumb to lock the door. After I ran from Chloe, I just fled into my house. I went straight to my bathroom. But instead of grabbing a razor this time, I took a bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet. And I walked into my bedroom. And I sat, cross-legged on my bed. And I dumped several pills into my palm. Then I just stared at them.

It would all be over. There would be no more of this pain. No more uncertainty of who I was. No more uncertainty of my feelings for Chloe, no more insecurity, no more self-hatred, no more self-harming, no more bullying and no more crying. I would be gone forever. Wherever I went, whether it was heaven, hell, or nowhere, it would be better than the life I was living.

What was the point of sticking around? What was holding me to the earth now? My family hated me. I had no friends. I was invisible to practically everyone, and Chloe's life would surely be more simple without me involved in it anymore. All I had done since we had met was confuse, worry, and complicate things for her. I didn't want that.

I wanted it to end. I wanted to be done and gone. I didn't have the strength to continue. At that moment I felt so utterly fragile and broken, absolutely shattered into pieces. There was no way I could ever put myself back together, no way I would ever return to the way I was before this severe depression arose as if out of nowhere. Then again, what had I been like before? I didn't know. I didn't know anything about myself. I felt like I never had.

I fell into a sort of daze. My mind was flooding with thoughts and images, fantasies of the overwhelming, coveted feeling of relief I would receive when I was finally taken from this world, when I was finally going to be free. Nothing around me was real at that moment. Time wasn't existent.

I was returned to reality at the sound of a door being thrown open. My front door. That could only be two people. My dad or Chloe. I didn't want to see either of them. I frantically got to my feet and slammed my bedroom door closed, pressing my body weight against it as hard as I could to form a makeshift barricade. The pills were still in my hand. I clenched them tightly in a white knuckled fist, noticing for the first time that my eyes were glossy. My breathing was uneven and shaky.

I could hear footsteps coming up my steps in a frenzy and they sounded too quick to be my father's. Chloe was here. The two places she would check would be the bathroom and my bedroom.

Sure enough, I could see the doorknob turning. She tried to get inside but I pushed against the door with my shoulder. She knocked heavily three or four times, repeatedly trying to get past me. I could sense her urgency.

_"Beca I know you're in there! Let me in, please!" _Hearing her beg like this was heart wrenching but I knew that she would be better off without me, no matter what she said to try and convince me otherwise.

"Just go away..." I muttered, barely loud enough to be heard through the barrier between us.

She stopped knocking for a second at my words. I could practically feel her eyes on me even when I couldn't see her.

"Please, Beca, don't do this..." Her voice had dwindled from a begging shout to a pleading whisper. I could picture her face in my head. Her expression of sympathy and desperation and worry and overwhelming concern. I didn't want her to feel any pain. If I just left, it would be easier for her.

I opened my fist to look at the pills still in my palm. They appeared ominous for some reason. I picked one up, feeling it with my fingertips before placing it onto my tongue and swallowing it with little difficulty. I needed more than one to actually die. I knew that. But for some reason I wasn't taking them all at once.

"Beca I _need_ you, you're worth so much! You don't deserve to die and you don't deserve pain, you deserve to be happy and to be loved! _Please _let me in. We can talk about this!" Chloe continued to try to persuade me but it wasn't working.

I took another pill. There were still a lot to go.

"The best thing you can do for me right now is leave." I murmured.

Her response was so delayed I wondered if she had heard me at all, "If you leave, Beca, I don't know what I would do. I could never forgive myself."

I took two more pills. And didn't say anything to her.

She knocked again, lightly this time, "Don't do it Beca, you're _so _much better than doing this!"

"No I'm not." I took another pill. My head was starting to spin.

"You _need _to believe me Beca, please."

I took another pill. My strength was faltering now. My legs felt weak. I staggered away from the door and tried to get to my bed but didn't even make it there. Instead I fell to my hands and knees. I moved so my back was against the side of my bed, facing the door. I wondered if she would try to get in. I looked at my palm. There were four more pills there.

"Beca..?" Clearly she wanted a response so that she could tell I was still there.

I didn't give her one. I took another pill.

"Beca?" She knocked again. This time she actually turned the knob. When she realized she could open the door, she pushed it so hard it was sent slamming into my wall.

Her eyes briefly scanned the room and spotted me quickly. I had never seen her look that concerned before. It was the same expression she had when she would catch me cutting, but the intensity was amplified by a million.

_"__Beca__! Oh my __God__!" _She started to run towards me but when I grabbed a pill from my palm she stopped in her tracks, staring at me with extremely wide eyes.

"Chloe, go away." I told her. Everything was getting a little blurry. Her outline was fuzzy.

"Beca _stop!_ How many pills did you take?! We need to get you to a hospital, please stop!"

Before I could think too much or even begin to be persuaded by her words I took another pill. Three left.

"Stop it!" She shrieked at me, finally rushing forwards. She grabbed my wrist and almost shook the rest of the pills from my hand, but I clenched my fist tightly to keep them secure.

"Let me go! Let me leave! I'm so _fucking_ done with this! I can't do it anymore, I just _can't!_" I shouted at her, trying to get away from her, but she held me firmly to the spot. My words were almost slurred.

"Yes you can, Beca, I promise!" I could see her eyes getting glossy and it made my chest hurt.

"_Stop that! It's pointless! I don't need you lying to me!_" I tried harder to get away but she wasn't letting me go. It was infuriating. I had never been so frustrated in my entire life.

_"I'm not lying to you!" _She insisted.

"Stop being so nice!" I shouted at her, watching as she tried to pry my fist open to get the pills from my grasp, _"I don't deserve someone this nice!" _

She stopped for a moment, looking straight into my eyes, "Yes you do, Beca. You should have had someone like this a long time ago."

While she was distracted I somehow managed to break away from her, and I scrambled to my feet, backing away until my back hit a wall. She shot to her feet and tried to get to me again, but I took a pill from my palm and held it, showing her what I planned on doing.

"Beca you don't need to do this!" She said, looking incredibly distraught. I watched a tear roll down her cheek and it made my head start pounding, when it was already spinning enough.

"Yes I _do! _I'm so fucking worthless, I'm just a waste of space, I have _nothing _good to offer _anyone! _Why was I even ever born in the first place?!" Tears started to cling to my eyelashes as well now. The lump in my throat was making it hard to breathe and my chest was heaving.

"Beca you need to believe me when I say that you are _perfect _the way you are! You are important and you are worth _so _much and you don't deserve to be sad, _ever_." She took a step closer to me.

_"Says you! Did you hear Aubrey?! Did you hear what she said?! I'm sure she's just telling me what everyone else there wanted to!" _

_"That's not true!" _She was really starting to sound desperate now. I had never seen her look so pained and powerless, "Aubrey is just a typical highschool _bitch _that bullies people for entertainment, okay?! She just wanted to get under your skin, don't let her!"

_"She was right, though! My life means nothing! It's pointless for me to be here!" _

"Stop saying things like that, _please!_" Chloe begged me. She was shaking. I watched as more tears fell from her eyes, and it made some fall from mine too, "How can you not see how _gorgeous _you are?!"

Those words made me stop still for a second, remembering what she had said to me when I stood on the curb during that rainstorm, threatening to throw myself in front of the next car. "Because I love you", the explanation that was never addressed afterward in the slightest, the explanation I did my best to push out of my mind because I would over-think things far too much otherwise.

I just couldn't cope with all of the abrupt conflicting emotions that overwhelmed me and I started crying again. I cried too much. It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

"Chloe, please, just leave me alone." I begged her this time. It didn't do anything.

"No. I'm not going to abandon you, Beca."

I glared at her, "I'm not going to be around for much longer anyways." Before she could do anything else, I took two more pills. Patches of black were appearing in my vision now.

_"Beca stop please! I can't lose you! Okay?! I just can't!" _She was crying now too, _"I need you! I need you more than I need to fucking breathe and I just..." _She took a shaky breath, "...don't. Please stop..."

I opened my mouth to respond but instead felt an unbelievable wave of weariness wash over me. I stumbled, falling against the wall to my left, my vision going completely black every other second. I slid down onto the floor. My head was pounding and my entire body was starting to feel numb. I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't see anything. I couldn't feel anything.

It was a relief.


End file.
